I thought I used up my emergency money when I gave my secret stash to the cabdriver who got me here, but then I remember the fifty-dollar bill Thom gave me earlier to take Nick out on a date intended to free the boy of Tris’s ghost. So much for that fund. Thom and Scot couldn’t have anticipated that the wildebeest herself would profit from their contribution to Nick’s night out.
I shove Tris away and reach inside the inner pocket of my flannel shirt. I hand Tris the fifty-spot. “Thank you!” she snaps. She turns to leave, but I pull her back.
“Tris?”
“What, bitch?”
“Am I really frigid?”
She sighs. “Of course you’re not frigid. Don’t believe all the propaganda Caroline and Tal have laid on you. I saw you kissing Nick earlier tonight. Looked to me like you two knew what you were doing.”
“But I don’t,” I say.
“Don’t what?”
“Know what I’m doing.”
Tris rolls her eyes. She walks over and points her index finger at me. “I’m gonna give you a little help here, but first you have to swear to me you didn’t know Nick before tonight and this wasn’t some…whadyacallit…streetlamp setup to trick me—”
“Streetlamp trick?”
“You know, to make me think I’m going crazy when really you’ve been plotting this all along.”
“That’s Gaslight, Tris. Not streetlamp. Remember that movie my mother made us watch at my eleventh birthday slumber party? And no, I never met Nick before tonight.” I raise my hand and make the Girl Scout honor pledge sign.
“Okay, then,” Tris says. “I believe you.”
She takes her gum from her mouth and presses it against the wall behind me, pinning me there with her upraised arms. Then she presses against me and my eyes are still open and they see her coming in and HOLY SHIT triple squared, she says, “Kiss your partner’s upper lip.” She kisses my upper lip, softly, gently. “That’s yang.” Her lips move down. “Kiss your partner’s bottom lip.” She kisses my bottom lip, more urgently. “That’s yin.” She pulls away but her left hand is now under the back of my shirt, pressed against the small of my spine. “Start by opening up your chakras, like that.”
I don’t say anything. My lips remain parted, not sure if the lesson is over.
“Or,” Tris says, “you can try this one.” With both hands, she pulls my face to hers. She sucks my upper lip between her lips, and then her tongue is in my mouth, caressing the middle area between my upper lip and my gums. I never even noticed that area was there. Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m not frigid. “That’s the frenulum,” she says when she’s done. She pats down her hair. “That little connective tissue inside your mouth. It’s a Hot Spot. You can use that one on Nick, you have my permission. I don’t think I ever used that one on him so it’s not like you’d be copying me.”
I’m standing against the wall, unsure of what to say or do. Now I’m sure I’m in a dream.
Tris says, “Or you can be inventive. Go on. Try me.”
What the hell? I turn my head at an angle and lean in to her face. I place my hands on her hips, press against her. Slowly, I kiss her upper lip, yang, suck on her lower lip, yin, but instead of following up with tongue, which her mouth definitely seems to want, I return to her upper lip and give it some gentle bites.
She pulls back. “Nip kissing! Good instinct, Norah. See? You’re not frigid. Gotta be careful with that one, though. Only do it with a partner you trust. Those teeth can get dangerous with the wrong person.”
“How do you know so much?” I ask her. I mean, I know she’s a groupie bitch, but she’s barely voting age—she hasn’t had that much time to acquire so much knowledge.
“Hello, bitch, I can Google sexual techniques just as well as you could if you wanted. It’s not brain science here.” She turns to leave and reaches for the door handle, then pauses and turns back around to face me. “But, Norah?”
“Yes?” I whisper.
“Get to know him first. You and he are not the one-night-stand types. You’re all sensitive and shit. Don’t go too fast.”
And she’s gone.
“Bye, Tris!” I gasp.
From the open door, I see her breeze past Nick on her way out of the restaurant. She tells him, “I told you that you’d find her someplace! Good job! And good luck with that one. You’re gonna need it. I almost feel sorry for you.”
I feel less sorry for Nick now. Maybe he’s not some poor schmuck. I totally get how he got so whipped.
15. NICK
While they’re in the bathroom together, I try to distract myself by coming up with a list of things that could be worse than having your vehement ex drag your current she’s-so-frickin’-cool girl away for some cubicle camaraderie (or conflict). I come up with the following:
• Having your pubic hair trimmed with garden shears.
• Having your pubic hair trimmed with garden shears by a frat guy who’s had twelve shots of Jägermeister.
• Having your pubic hair trimmed with garden shears by a frat guy who’s had twelve shots of Jägermeister during an 8.6 earthquake.
• Having your pubic hair trimmed with garden shears by a frat guy who’s had twelve shots of Jägermeister during an 8.6 earthquake with lite jazz playing.
I have to stop there. It’s just too horrifying.